


baby, it's cold outside

by orphan_account



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27529909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jamie lives in a town named Christmas.  She’s been here her whole life, from birth to present, and at eighteen years old, she can say quite genuinely that she fucking hates Christmas.Largely based off of the short story, "Welcome to Christmas, CA" by Kiersten White.  It's so good, you should read it when you get the chance!
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie, Hannah Grose/Owen Sharma
Comments: 7
Kudos: 121





	baby, it's cold outside

Jamie lives in a town named Christmas. She’s been here her whole life, from birth to present, and at eighteen years old, she can say quite genuinely that she  _ fucking hates Christmas.  _

Her childhood, rocky as it is, follows her into her teenage years, into high school, into her  _ job,  _ where beefy jocks and their girlfriends trip her, and poke her, and “accidentally” spill milkshakes on her beat up, stained uniform. 

Her said job being a waitress at a Christmas-themed restaurant. Hence the town name. Hence the hatred. 

Christmas, Vermont, is a mining town, where men and their sons choke a living out of rocks, a temporary profession, a well that will soon run dry and finally allow their miserable town to wither into oblivion. 

Sitting in her mom’s newest conquest,  _ Dave’s,  _ she concedes, car, she mentally steels herself for a forty-five minute trip from the nearest high school to the diner, the one her mom owned with her dad, before her dad up and left with some bright-eyed, bushy-tailed waitress. 

The one she waitresses at now. 

“Jamie. How was your day?” Dave says, in his drowsy, monotone voice, and Jamie could roll her eyes at the insincerity of it all. 

“All right.” She mutters, hugging her knapsack to her chest. 

Here’s the thing about having a  _ whore  _ for a mom- you don’t get too attached to her most recent  _ clientele.  _ Even if Dave has been living with them for around six years, even if he labels almost every piece of tupperware in the fridge with his name on a piece of masking tape, as if it his fucking  _ Fruit of the Loom  _ tighty whities. 

“Homework?” He asks, still reading from the usual script. 

“Done it at school.” She replies, and he pulls off the highway and into the main road leading to the diner. 

“Lily found a new cook.” Jamie cuts her eyes at this, their old cook, Henry, leaving to take care of his brother’s kids, and they pull into the  _ Christmas Diner  _ parking lot in tense silence. 

The diner was opened a dozen years ago, by her mom, and her dad, the both of them apparently loving Christmas enough to celebrate it year round. Now, it’s just her mom, and  _ Dave,  _ who handles the numbers, who covers the ordering, who forces his girlfriend’s daughter to work for  _ tips alone,  _ that of which she doesn’t get much of, seeing that the food is shit and the patrons are even shittier. 

She feels sad, about Henry leaving, but he was more of an appliance to her, as much of a dick as that makes her sound. She sees it as a sign, another reason she needs to turn tail and run, before she gets stuck like the rest of ‘em. Like her mom, like Dave. Everyone in this town is miserable, like an endless shift, like they can only clock out when they die. 

Or, in Jamie’s case, until she graduates, and gets the  _ fuck  _ out of Christmas forever. 

  
  


She hops out of Dave’s CR-V before it stops, and he peels off as soon as the door slams shut, for the late shift at the mine. Her license is still a work in progress, a problem she’s never had the privilege to worry about before, her father taking the car when he left. 

Her apartment-  _ their  _ apartment, is cold, dark, when she steps it, the heating off for the winter, a habit born out of necessity, when money was tight during the divorce, carried over to the present, by Dave’s suggestion. She pulls her sweater closer to her body, and chucks her bag into the corner, by the coat rack. 

The apartment is small, and despite Jamie’s growing frustration with the town, it’s still home. She grew up here. 

Her mom is an immigrant from Manchester, a northern city in England, and it’s where Jamie learned her accent, taught to talk without fully pronouncing her R’s, or the G’s at the end of words. She remembers, before the divorce, when her mom would tell stories of the country, of the New York style city life, of the trouble she used to get up to before she met Jamie’s dad, an exchange student in a leather jacket, with a bright-white smile, that couldn’t get enough of the thin, blonde, accented lady in red. Her dad would smirk at that story, and the words would turn to giggles when the older man grabbed her mother’s sides to draw her into an embrace. 

She remembers her mother cooking her fish and chips, full breakfasts, or bubble and squeak the morning after a Sunday roast, and she smiles, the memory of the heavy foods warming her hungry stomach- now often fed by Henry’s greasy, barely edible concoctions. 

Now, spurred on by a growling stomach and a fridge full of labeled tupperware, she heads over to the diner to check her schedule, as well as grab a bite to eat, see if the new cook is up to (very,  _ incredibly  _ low) standards. Several cars sit in the parking lot, the lunch rush seemingly drawn out into the shift-change happy hour for the miners. 

The door swings open on its rusted hinges, the  _ beep beep beep  _ of the alarm alerting the waitresses to her presence, or… lack thereof. 

The diner is- busy, to say the least, the whole dining room decked out in 1980s Christmas decor, old animatronic snowmen and Santa Clauses humming and dancing jaggedly with age, spray-on snow yellowed under years of stain, then bleach, then stains again. Snowflakes and chipped ornaments hang from the ceilings, and the place smells like grease, like burgers and fries and a pot of oil that hasn’t been changed since last week. 

The other waitress- Hannah, is nowhere to be seen, and Jamie rolls her eyes at the absence. A customer is waiting near the “Please Wait to be Seated” sign, and she’s carrying a baby, as well as two younger boys bounce around her in barely-contained tantrums. 

“Yeah, not much luck in the help department. I’d leave, but there’s like, not even a McDonald’s in this town.” The mom says to her, and Jamie’s got a decision to make here. One, she could turn and run, and let Hannah take the fall for the loss of business, or… 

The bell in the order window rings, a sound Jamie never heard from Henry, who didn’t bother to use it, preferring to shout various obscenities when an order sat on the stove for too long. 

Jamie sighs. “I, um- I work here!” The woman’s eyes squint in relief, and Jamie gestures to the family-sized table to the left. “You guys get settled here, I’ll be right back with some menus.” The woman thanks her, a clipped, short address, and Jamie scurries to the order window. 

“Right then, who’s this for?” The tray is stacked neatly, a casserole dish bubbling invitingly, steaming with something that smells  _ delightfully  _ better than whatever they’ve got on the menu now. It’s accompanied by two kid’s chocolate milks, and two Cokes. “I work here, by the way.” She adds, feeling the need to assert herself. 

“The family- out there!” A voice calls, from behind the window, and Jamie frowns. 

“They haven’t ordered yet.” She replies, and she peers into the window again. 

“It’s- it’s for them!” Jamie hears a sizzle in a pan, and she shrugs, walking the tray over to the family’s table. 

“Your food.” She says, and the woman looks about to burst a blood vessel. 

“We haven’t- wait, hold on.” The woman pushed her glasses up her nose, and sniffs the air slightly.  _ Weird, but okay.  _

“Looks to be baked macaroni and cheese. Want the drinks, at least?” 

The woman utters a surprised laugh, and Jamie prepares herself for the verbal reaming she suffers almost every day from customers like these. 

“It’s- that’s crazy!” The woman exclaims, “my grandma, she used to make us baked macaroni for our birthdays every year!” Jamie quirks an eyebrow. 

“So… you’d like it?” 

“I would, yeah,” The woman’s voice grows soft, sentimental. “It smells the  _ exact  _ same. Could I bother you for some extra plates?” 

Jamie blinks away her whiplash from the woman’s sudden shift in demeanor, but nods quickly. 

“Be right up.” She rushes behind the counter to grab some plates and silverware, and sets them down on the family’s table, the mom eagerly scooping out helpings for her children, telling a story about some birthday celebration, and her grandma. 

Jamie leaves them be, shaking her head in confusion. That dish was not- had  _ never  _ been on the menu, she knows, she’d have gotten it way more than the other shit they serve. She pushes through the swinging door of the kitchen, and it’s like slow motion, the way her mouth drops open in shock. 

Because the cook is not some greasy, alcoholic grump like Henry. No, the new cook is for one, a  _ she,  _ a beautiful, blonde-haired, blue eyed  _ woman,  _ her jeans a light-wash, and her shirt a fitted pink tee, and she’s pulling something, a tray- out of the oven, a pair of pink oven mitts covering her hands. 

And Jamie can’t place it- there’s  _ something,  _ though, something sweet and understanding, and kind about her face. And she’s not old. She’s gotta be, twenty? And did Jamie mention? Absolutely jaw-dropping, knees-shaking  _ gorgeous?  _

“Oh, hey!” She looks up from the tray she just pulled from the oven, settling it onto the cooling racks shoved in near the toasters. Her face is pulled wide in a smile, and Jamie realizes she’s beaming back. 

She schools her expression into one less  _ stupid.  _ “So you’re the new cook?” And of course, Jamie has to go and ask the stupidest question, but the blonde just smiles, tipping her head to the side happily. 

“Yeah! This place is amazing!” Jamie scoffs, furrowing her eyes at the taller girl. 

“Um. No, not really.” The girl laughs, again, and-

“I’m so lucky they hired me.” And maybe Jamie just doesn’t pick up on the joke, but she’s sure the blonde isn’t sincere. She shakes the oven mitts off her hands, wiping them on the striped apron she’s wearing. 

“I’m Dani!” She says, holding a delightfully soft hand out to Jamie’s calloused own. 

“Jamie.” She can’t see herself- doesn’t know what she looks like, but now she wishes she had, just to tame her curls a bit, maybe brush a bit of mascara on, or something. God, something. 

The door jingles, interrupting their introduction, and Jamie pulls her hand back, gently. Dani gives her a bubbly smile, before turning back to whatever she’s making. She fills drinks for the family, before returning to the kitchen, the dining room seemingly empty save for the family. 

She leans against the order window, shoving her hands in her pockets. 

“So who was the macaroni for?” Dani turns back to her, a bewildered smile on her face. 

“The family.” She says, a silent  _ duh  _ tacked on, and Jamie rolls her eyes. 

“No, I know, but they didn’t  _ order  _ it.” 

“Right, but they needed it.” 

“What?” Dani shrugs, her lip pulling up on one side, in an adorable little half-smile. 

“They like it, don’t they?” And it’s not really a question, more like a statement, but. 

“Yeah, they’re over the moon. But it’s not on the menu. It’s not Christmassy enough.” 

Dani shrugs, and her lips move into a full-fledged, goofy smile. “First day jitters. I’ll get the hang of it soon enough.” 

“Honestly, don’t. That looked way better than the shite we serve here.” Jamie grabs her uniform from the hook, resigning herself to another mind-numbing shift. The stained red polyester dress glares back at her, and she sneers. 

The bathroom door almost smacks into her when she tries to open it. “Jesus, Han’,” Jamie exclaims, letting the dark-skinned woman move so that she can step inside the restroom. 

Her shoulders are shaking, and Jamie grabs one gently. “Hannah, you alright?” Hannah’s face is pale, her lips quivering, and her eyes are rimmed red, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Her boyfriend, Sam, had a knack for being the actual shittiest person alive. 

“I’m pregnant.” She holds up a white stick, the pink “Positive!” shooting shivers down her spine. 

“Congratulations?” She says, and Hannah laughs wetly, almost like she used to, when she used to be Hannah. 

“It’s, um. It’s Owens.” And Jamie drops her uniform. “I couldn’t go later, I had to buy one on my shift. He’d know, otherwise.” Jamie stands, for a moment, then pulls the older woman into her arms. 

“S’gonna be fine, Han’,” She murmurs into her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.” 

She lets Hannah spend the rest of her shift in the bathroom, figuring if the restaurant isn’t busy, the customers can always head across the street to the QuikTrip to use the loo. 

The family leaves, and Jamie waves them out, heading to their table to find- 

No mess. The plates are stacked nicely, silverware on top, and there’s-  _ blissfully-  _ a twenty dollar bill laying in the middle of the table. 

“Jesus Christ!” Jamie exclaims, and Dani pops her head through the order window. 

“Everything okay?” Jamie just smiles brilliantly, and Dani’s lips raise automatically in response. 

“Fucking brilliant! Best tip I’ve ever gotten! Thank you, Dani!” And Dani just grins sweetly, a slight color raising in her cheeks. 

The door jingles again, and it’s her mom, this time, followed closely by Dave, and they look surprised to see her. 

“Jamie, I didn’t know you were working today.” Her mother states, pulling the girl into a short hug, and Jamie returns it awkwardly, glancing over her shoulder to see if the blonde was watching. 

“Nah, Hannah’s… sick. I’m covering.” 

“Homework done?” Dave questions, and Jamie flattens her lips.

“Yep.” It’s the same question, every day, but in different settings. Usually at home, though, after she passes him the remote to the telly so he can play his stupid old westerns, the shows never failing to put her right to sleep. Which, she supposes was a good thing, during her year-long battle against insomnia the year prior. He’d be on the couch, usually, during her restless hours, and without fail, he’d be playing those stupid westerns. 

There were a few interesting ones, she’d concede. 

The bell in the order window chimes, and she frowns, looking away from her mother. Three to-go containers rest on the sill, and Jamie makes her way over. 

“Oi, blondie! No one ordered anything!” Dani looks up from her cutting board, and giggles a bit. 

“Oh, it’s embarrassing! But I messed up. Figured your folks might want to take the leftovers, instead of me throwing them out.” Her little Iowa accent coats her words in midwestern hospitality, and Jamie would smile, had the blonde not implied that  _ Dave  _ was her  _ father.  _

“Dave is  _ not  _ my dad.” 

“Oh! Sorry. Ask ‘em if they want it, though!” Jamie glares at her, but it’s difficult, and Dani just smiles her sugary little smile in response. 

“Stop making extra food.” Dani’s face straightens, and she mock-salutes. 

“Yes ma’am. Jamie, ma’am.” Her grin breaks across her face, seconds later, like a big golden retriever, and Jamie just puffs a breath through her pursed lips. 

Jamie hands the containers to her mom. “She made extra. Figured you guys’d like ‘em.” 

Dave doesn’t question it, just takes two of the containers from her mom, and tipping his head towards the door. “We going, Lil’?” 

Her mom frowns, and kisses Jamie on the forehead. “Make sure that cook doesn’t waste food, hear me?” Jamie nods, wiping the red lipstick print off her face. 

When they leave, Jamie heads back to the bathroom, to find Hannah slumped in the corner, her head resting on the stall door, asleep, and Jamie crouches next to her. 

“Han’ wake up. Hey, hey, it’s okay, you have time,” She murmurs, when Hannah startles, and she smiles up at Jamie. 

“You wanna go up to my apartment?” And Hannah nods, gathering her purse and keys, and Jamie gives the woman her own key. 

“Come down close to eight, ‘kay?” The older woman nods again, and Jamie smiles reassuringly. 

She takes the rest of Hannah’s shift, and their regulars drift in around five, business picking up in their nice dinner rush. 

Dani doesn’t yell at her, though, when she’s frazzled, hopping from table to table taking orders, just smiles and waves and dings the bell when an order is up. 

When business slows down, and the tourists are gone, Jamie peeks her head through the window to see Dani pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven. 

“Jesus, what are you doing?” Dani looks up, startled, and Jamie nods to the customers. “You haven’t been following the recipes.” Dani’s face flashes with panic, then, but she smiles through it. 

“Have there been complaints?” 

“Well, no.” Jamie concedes, and Dani’s smile lightens. “But they’re just being nice. Since you’re new, an’ all.” 

They aren’t, though. The regulars that usually blow in every night are rude, they like their greasy, overcooked food, they like yelling at Jamie when it’s different, they like picking on her. But it’s different, tonight. Mellowed… almost. There’s Viola and Perdy, the sisters who sit in the corner and sneer coldly at her when she brings them their drinks, tonight laughing with each other, shoulders touching as they huddle around something on Perdy’s phone, two mugs of something steaming and creamy in front of them, smelling vaguely like cinnamon and sugar. 

There’s Peter, the dick from her school who likes to tease her and stick notes onto her back and pull faces when she speaks in class, his arm wrapped around his girl- Rebecca, chatting closely like there’s nothing else going on but them. 

It’s like the atmosphere in the diner is different, and the customers smile at her when she refills their coffees and takes their plates. She almost swears she hears Viola wish her a good night on the way out. 

And the tips- it’s like everyone remembered the existence of  _ courtesy.  _

Dani hums along to the Michael Buble track, dusting powdered sugar on the cookies, and frowns up at Jamie when she notices her enter. 

“Jamie.” She pouts, and Jamie smiles in question at her, the blonde too adorable to do much else, and Jamie’s had a good night so far. “The gingerbread. I had to make them circles. Where are your cookie cutters?” 

Jamie chuckles. “Sorry, Mrs. Claus, we don’t have ‘em.” 

“What type of Christmas restaurant doesn’t have cookie cutters?” 

“The bad kind.” Dani smiles at her, and opens her mouth to say something, when Hannah steps in, the kitchen door swinging behind her. 

“Thanks, love.” She gives Jamie a quick squeeze, tossing her uniform in the hamper near the door. And Sam walks in, in that moment, and the color drains from Hannah’s face. He holds his hand out for her tips, and her hands shake, and  _ god fucking dammit.  _

“Hannah,” Jamie pulls her tips from her apron. “You left these in your apron.” Hannah’s eyes widen in relief, and there’s a  _ thank you  _ in them that Jamie is far too fed up to reject, and the older woman squeezes her arm on her way out. 

And Frank Sinatra is scraping across her eardrums as she watches the best tips she’s ever gotten go straight into the palm of Hannah’s dick boyfriend. 

Closing, after that, is excruciating, and Jamie’s feet drag when she kicks the last of the lingering crowd out, the happy spirit no longer extending into her own, and their companionable laughter just irks her.  _ That’s where caring gets ya. Broke and empty-handed.  _

She’s heard “Feliz Navidad” for the fourth time today when she’s filling her mop bucket, and she’s about to tear her hair out, when Dani emerges from the kitchen, holding a plate of gingerbread cookies. 

“I’m not sharing my tips with you.” Jamie spits, and Dani stops in her tracks, eyebrows raised. 

“Okay then.” She nods, and holds a cookie out to the shorter girl. 

“We share our tips with the cook. Most nights. Not tonight, though.” 

“Okay.” Dani just dangles the cookie in front of her, willing her to take it. 

“Seriously? That’s it?” Jamie expects a fight, expects the argument, her frustration balled up deep in her chest, needing to release. 

“Well, they are  _ your  _ tips.” And Dani’s smile falls a bit. 

“Yes, but we’re supposed to share.”

“Well if you don’t want to, I get it.”

“Dani, Jesus!” She throws her hands up. “You’re supposed to be cross with me! So I can yell at you and feel better!” 

“Why would yelling make you feel better?” Dani laughs, a bright, tinkling noise that Jamie pauses a bit to experience fully. 

“I want to yell at someone!” Jamie abandons her bucket, slumping into a booth defeatedly, resting her head on the table. 

“Who?” Dani slides in beside her, placing the plate of cookies in front of her. 

“Fucking, I don’t know! Hannah, a little. Her stupid fucking boyfriend, definitely. My mom.  _ Dave.  _ And honestly- I’d’ve shared my tips with you tonight, really, but I don’t fucking have any.” 

“Nobody tipped you?” Dani’s voice slips a little, surprised and a bit upset, and Jamie smiles, patting the blonde’s wrists. 

“No, no, everyone tipped. Better than usual, no surprise.” Dani blushes. “But I had to give it all to fuckin’ Hannah.” 

“Well, I think you’re sweet. Sweet enough for a cookie.” Dani holds another cookie out. 

“Sorry, Claus. I don’t like gingerbread.” 

“You haven’t tried  _ my  _ gingerbread.” Jamie smirks. 

“First day, and you’re using all the chef pickup lines on me, huh?” Dani blushes,  _ again,  _ and it’s almost too adorable for Jamie to really fathom, so she takes a cookie to ease the blonde. 

“Blimey, Dan’. This is insane! What’d you put in these things? Cocaine?” The gingerbread is soft, spicy, reminding her a bit of the sticky ginger-orange pudding her mom used to make in autumn, and she sighs into her next bite, closing her eyes at the memory of her mother, dancing to old eighties hits, the fresh orange peels fragrant in a pot on the stove. 

“Told you so.” Dani says, “Not a pickup line,” and Jamie smirks. 

“Too bad.” She relaxes back into the cushioned booth, and takes another cookie, much to Dani’s pleasure. 

Her feet are aching, and her lower back hurts as well from the hours on her toes, but right now she feels light, warm, like the gingerbread. She decides to pay it forward, a bit, or maybe she just likes testing the limits on how nice she can stand to be before she spontaneously combusts. 

“Your food was amazing today. Everyone loved it.” Dani smiles shyly, playing with her hands over the table. 

“Good.” Her voice is soft, pleased. 

“Where’d you learn to cook like that?” Dani smiles, and shrugs. 

“My fian- my ex-fiance’s mom taught me the basics.” Jamie’s eyes bug out. 

“Ex-” her eyes dart to Dani’s ring finger, bare, and breathes a sigh of relief, for a reason she doesn’t even know. “Ex-fiance? As in- you were going to be married?” 

Dani’s face loses none of its pleasance, and she nods. “I-um, we broke up about six months ago.” Jamie sits up in the booth. “I applied for this job because I love Christmas, and cooking, and it felt like fate. Or something like that, something I hadn’t felt before. And the girl who was engaged to be married, she wasn’t  _ me.  _ You know? I’d rather not talk about that.” 

Jamie quells her curiosity. “Fine, Claus, but the curiosity’s gonna kill me.” 

“Like the cat, huh?” Jamie flicks the blonde’s arm, standing to stretch her back out a little. She removes her apron, the front of the polyester dress cool with sweat from the day. Dani’s staring at her. She raises her eyebrows, and the blonde looks away quickly. 

Jamie looks around the dining room, the space not too dirty, but she supposed she’ll wipe tables and mop before heading to do the dishes. She turns the bluetooth jukebox off in the middle of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside”, once Dani’s back in the kitchen, and she hears a faint groan of relief from behind the order window. 

“Thank god!” She calls, and pops her head up into the space. “That song sucks rusty buckets.” Jamie snorts at the expression. 

“Seriously, seriously sucks.” She replies, shoving her mop closer in the direction of the blonde. 

“Creepy, too. Santa Claus Is Coming To Town isn’t any better.” Jamie nods enthusiastically. 

“I know! Thank you! Santa is creepy!” 

“Santa is creepy. I love Christmas, but not creepy old guys.” Dani laughs, and goes back to her kitchen duties. Jamie switches the station on the jukebox-radio to an old rock station, dancing a bit as she cleans. 

She wheels the yellow bucket across the kitchen tiles, but when she makes it to the dish station- it’s pristine. And the kitchen is perfect, too, every condiment and spice lined up. 

A sticky note lies on the recipe book, a big smiley face drawn in purple sharpie. Jamie tries to stifle the grin that stretches her face, but it’s nearly impossible. 

Because fuck Christmas. She can’t get attached, she can’t be tethered, not when she’s getting as far as she can away from this town after graduation. 

The next day, she books it to Dave’s car. The scripted conversation doesn’t drag as long, either, Jamie’s leg twitching in the passenger seat. 

“You look nice.” Dave says- new! Something new! But not entirely welcome. 

“Thanks, I guess.” She had tried, with her appearance today, raking a brush through her unruly curls, showering with her flowery body wash, and Dave looks at her funny when she applies the berry-colored stain to her lips, and she looks at him even funnier as she sprays an extra pump of the dusky perfume her mom bought her for her eighteenth birthday. 

“See ya, Dave.” She mutters, when they pull in the parking lot of the diner. 

Viola is sitting at the counter when she walks in, and she grins at Jamie when she passes. 

“Hey, Jamie!” Jamie’s never seen the dark haired girl smile, especially not in her direction, the middle-aged woman preferring to stare darkly into her coffee as if it had eyes to look back at her with. 

“Can I get you something?” Jamie asks, her best customer service smile lighting her face. 

“Take your time, you just got here!” Jamie tries to hide her confusion at the sudden shift in demeanor. 

She barrels into the kitchen. “What did you do to Viola?” Dani just smiles. 

“She needed a good meal.” She shrugs. 

“Right, okay, but she’s been treating me like  _ dog shit  _ for nearly three years now, innit? And I’ve never once heard her use my name, either.” 

“Hm.” Dani frowns at the  _ dog shit  _ line, and shrugs again. 

“Are you like, a drug dealer? Is that what this is?” Dani laughs. 

“Not a drug dealer, no.” 

“You lace the food! Aha!” 

“Garlic is not a controlled substance, Jamie.” 

“Famous last words.” She scoffs, and pulls her sweatshirt off, yanking the red polyester dress and apron over her tank top and tights. Dani’s eyes linger for a second on the bodice of the uniform. 

“I could get those stains out, if you wanted.” She offers, and Jamie blushes, kicking herself for assuming the blonde was checking her out. 

“Uh, sure, Claus. Anytime.” Dani smiles, and Hannah walks in, pale as ever. 

“Oh! Hannah! Made you something!” And Hannah just shakes her head, holding a palm over her stomach. 

“Don’t feel well.” She supplies. 

“It’ll help!” Dani insists, and Hannah smiles weakly at the younger girl, taking the container, and walks towards the door where Sam is waiting. 

“She gave it to him, didn’t she?” Dani sighs, and Jamie wonders what was in the to-go container anyway. 

“Yep. Sorry, Claus.” Jamie pats her back, and lingers for a moment, until Dani blushes and looks up at her. 

“Wasn’t for him.” She explains, and Jamie nods. 

“Nothing ever is, seems.” 

Jamie’s shift moves slowly, and her feet still ache from last night, but Dani smiles at her sometimes from the order window, and her steps are a little lighter those times. 

Viola is laughing with another patron, having moved to a corner booth. Jamie makes her way back to the kitchen. 

“Oi, Dani! Viola’s order up yet?” Viola’s order- usually an overcooked burger and undercooked fries, the same every time. 

“Yep!” And Dani places the tray up on the sill, and-

“Viola didn’t order this. She’s not a- what is this? Chocolate cake? And-” 

“Here.” Dani presents a second plate, on the tray.  _ Shepherd’s Pie.  _ It smells just like when her mom used to make it, and an ache in her throat, like a sore, pulses down to her heart. She looks up at Dani, scowling. “She didn’t order this. Make her the fuckin’ burger.” 

“Jamie, just trust me, she’ll like it.” 

“No.” 

“Tell you what,” Dani sighs. “If he doesn’t like it- you don’t have to share your tips for the rest of the week.” 

“And you tell me about your fiance.” Dani frowns, but tips her head in acceptance. 

_ “Fine.”  _

Jamie takes the tray, and sets the dishes down in front of Viola. 

“This isn’t-” She protests, but her voice quiets, and Jamie’s hand pauses on the dish. 

“Want me to take it back?” Viola startles. 

“No! No, it’s… it’s perfect. Just like how my husband…” She smiles, trailing off, her deep, dark eyes brightening the slightest bit in a memory. 

“Let me know if you need anything else.” She glances up, where Dani’s raising a smug eyebrow, and she flips the taller girl off, low, where the customers can’t see her. 

“Jamie!” Her mom gasps, and Jamie flicks off the gesture, turning towards the voice. 

“What are you doing here?” She questions, but her mom just drags her by the arm into the kitchen. 

“What was that?” She demands, and Jamie shrugs. 

“Just… goofing off.” She says quietly, and she feels Dani’s curious ears trying not to eavesdrop. 

“We can’t afford to goof off, Jamie!” She exclaims, tossing her hands up in the air, letting them slap against her legs when they come back down. 

“Um, I’m not getting paid, remember? All I  _ can  _ afford is to goof off.” She crosses her arms.

“Jamie, we’ve talked about this. It’s a family business. Our earnings go into the same account, so-” 

“When did we talk about it? We never talked about it! We never talk about anything, anymore! Why do you need all my money? So we can live in a crappy fuckin’ duplex in a crappy fuckin’ town, with your crappy, tight-ass boyfriend! Yeah, mum, got that.” Jamie turns away, barrelling out of the kitchen and almost catching Dani on the way out, who is looking at her with such a foreign expression that Jamie is positive she’s caught every word. 

Her mom lingers, chatting with Dani about her past, and her food, and the weird grocery list she planned. Somehow, her mom agrees, and ignores her completely until she leaves, and Jamie’s shoulders sink when she does. 

She can’t wait to go home, and recount all the tips she’s made over the last three years. She needs the reassurance, the solidity of her future, away from all this- this town. Viola left her a decent tip, 100% more than she would have before Dani’s cooking, so she supposes there’s one thing to be happy about. 

She whips around at the end of the night to find Dani squeezing the water out of a mop. “That’s not your job.” She snaps, and Dani, bless her soul, just shrugs, getting started without a fight, and working together, the restaurant is sparkling in record time. 

“Still mad at you, you know? Should’a won that bet.” Jamie says, hanging up her uniform. 

“Peace offering?” Dani offers a plate of what looks to be chocolate chip cookies this time, and Jamie takes one with no hesitation, her teeth sinking warmly into the gooey center. 

“Follow me,” Jamie says, her spit-decision making skills not having failed her yet, and Dani just nods, following Jamie up the rusty ladder in the back to the diner’s flat roof. 

She hasn’t been up here in so long, since Hannah was still Hannah, and they would sneak up after hours to smoke cigarettes, or share the occasional pot brownie, hating Christmas together. 

It’s a cold night, and her breath fogs with Dani’s, but Dani doesn’t seem to mind, passing her another cookie when Jamie finishes her first, and it’s even better than the gingerbread. 

“Show-off.” She breathes, nudging Dani’s ribs with her elbow. Keeps finding excuses to touch her. She needs to put an end to that- right quick. 

“I was- I was engaged to a guy. Back home, in Iowa.” Dani starts, and Jamie knows better than to interrupt, instead scooting closer and nodding encouragingly for Dani to continue. 

“My best friend, Eddie. He- well, he proposed, and I couldn’t say no. Even if I’d wanted to- my parents, his parents, the town, it was like we were televised, like it was scripted-our lives.” And Jamie makes a noise, agreement, in the back of her throat, because- isn’t that just small town life in a nutshell? The  _ script  _ of it all? 

“I- I mean, you know I broke it off. I had to break it off. I was tired, of being told what I wanted, of being  _ owned  _ like that. That wasn’t love, y’know?” She shrugs, and looks to the left, fiddling with the bottom of her jumper. 

“So how do you guess what people wanna eat?” Jamie asks, and Dani smiles. 

“How do you mean?”

“Ah, Claus. Don’t play dumb. The macaroni. The cake, the shepherd's pie. The cookies. How d’you do it?” 

Dani smirks. “You’ll say I’m crazy.” Jamie motions for her to continue. 

“You’ll say I’m crazy, but it just kind of came to me- when I first started cooking. Like a sixth sense, almost. I just know what’ll make them feel good, feel like  _ home.”  _

“So… a food psychic.” Dani cringes, and Jamie sees a defensive shift in her expression. 

“Like how my mom could always tell when I was gonna throw up as a kid, even if I didn’t say anything!” She wants to slap her forehead, of course she had to go and say the most embarrassing shit, but Dani’s smiling again, so it’s a plain win in her book. 

“Sure, like that.” She relaxes again. “I think, if you can understand what type of food makes someone happy, you can figure out most other things about them as well. For example, when did you start liking me?” Jamie coughs, her mouth going dry. 

“When I made you those gingerbread cookies. That’s when you decided to be friends with me!” Dani finishes for her. 

“Exactly. Yes.” She breathes, relieved, but there’s a secret look in Dani’s eyes, one that makes her think she’s just given herself a way a bit more than she’d like to. 

“I just like to make people feel good, even if it’s a silly meal.” 

“Hey, it’s not silly. It’s sweet.” Jamie smiles at the way the moonlight highlights the crescent of Dani’s upper lip. 

“I think,” Dani says, studying her. “If you were a cookie, you’d be gingerbread. Spicy enough to keep you on your toes, but sweet, too, to balance it out.” 

“Yeah, Claus, I’m not sweet.” Jamie scoffs. 

“You are too. You gave Hannah your tips.” And Jamie doesn’t feel like talking about Hannah, so she dangles a foot out towards the edge of the roof. 

“What would you be, if you were a food?” she asks. 

Dani smiles. “Haven’t figured that one out yet.” She flexes her fingers, opening her hand in the space between them. Jamie itches to take it. 

“I like it here, though. I’m renting a room for almost nothing, so I’m saving what I’m making. And I like small towns. They’re cozy. I’m just saving until I can get the rest I need for culinary school.”

“I’m getting out of here as soon as I can.” Jamie blurts, and Dani’s fingers flex closed. 

“But… why? This is your home.” Jamie scoffs.

“I live in a duplex that my mom’s boyfriend pays for. Nothing here is  _ mine.  _ It’s… it’s awful here. As soon as I graduate, I’m leaving.” 

“Where are you going?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know. But I don’t care. I’m going as far as I can. Until I can find somewhere that feels like home.”

“And what does home feel like?” That… Jamie doesn’t have an answer for that. The question hangs in the air between them, and the night suddenly feels much colder. 

  
  


Dani pokes her head out of the order window, weeks later. “How were the waffles?” 

But Hannah can barely muster a smile. “Good, thanks.” Her plate is barely touched, and Dani frowns at the sight. 

Jamie’s plate, however, is completely empty. The waffles were perfect, crispy but soft, and perfectly sweet. 

“Delicious, Dani. Best work yet.” She mumbles, brushing past the blonde to put their dishes by the sink. The cook brightens a bit at this, a small smile pulling the corner of her mouth. 

Three days ‘til Christmas. It’s busy at the diner, packed with locals and tourists alike, and for once, Jamie thinks that they may be right in stopping by. 

Dani pumps out holiday themed plate after holiday themed plate. She tries to get Hannah to eat something, but Hannah just throws it up, or rejects it in its entirety. Dani’s face inevitably falls at this, and it’s up to Jamie to bring a smile back to the blonde’s face. 

Not that she minds. 

Jamie’s ear perk up at the song change, the seemingly set in stone Christmas playlist her mom found on Pandora, now peppered with a few rock songs, and Jamie grins, scurrying to the kitchen, and she almost bumps into the blonde, who’s crossing items off a list haphazardly. 

“Mrs. Claus! Are you the one who’s been messing with the playlist?” 

Dani looks up, distracted, but a grin splits her face, and she pushes her bangs off her forehead. 

“Oh, yeah, I thought we could mix things up a bit. Frank Sinatra grows old, huh And you like rock, right?” Jamie laughs, delighted. 

“I can’t believe you noticed!” 

“I notice a lot of things.” Dani’s eyes linger on her for a second, fidgeting with her pen. Jamie blushes, and the blonde averts her eyes back to the list. She taps her pen on it twice. 

“This Christmas menu isn’t working. I don’t know what to do about it.”

Jamie nudges her shoulder, leaning closer to look at the list. A curly lock of her hair tickles the side of Dani’s face. “You always know what to do.” 

“Usually, but not this time. Nothing’s working.” Jamie chuckles. 

“Claus, everything’s working! Our customers are  _ happy  _ for once, not to mention the tips! It’s like they actually like it here, in Christmas!” Dani frowns. 

“Not you.” Jamie sighs, and lets her arm rest against Dani’s. She  _ can’t  _ be tied down. Not to this town. Not to these people. Not even to an inexplicably beautiful cook who makes heavenly gingerbread and feels like… like… 

“Or Hannah. She doesn’t like anything I make, either.” 

“Well, Hannah’s puking all the time anyway. She doesn’t like anything anymore.”

“But I could help! What does she like?” Jamie shrugs. 

“Couldn’t tell ya. We used to be friends, but then we stopped. She stopped being anything, cuz’a Sam. Can’t help her, I’m afraid.” 

Dani’s eyes soften, “Someone should.” The door jingles, and Jamie huffs, glancing apologetically at the blonde, and moving back out to the dining room. 

Later, she storms into the apartment, pulling on a sweater with an annoyed grunt.  _ Stupid fucking cold house.  _

“Jamie? That you?” Jamie shouts an affirmation. “How was work, honey?” 

Her shift- the rest of it- was terrible. Dani was being, well, not herself, giving people what they ordered. She tried to get her to lighten up, complaining a bit about Viola’s stink-eye, but the blonde just shrugged. A few customers didn’t even tip, the other patrons' contributions bleak, to say the least. 

And as a cherry on top, Hannah’s creepy ass boyfriend showed up early, while she was puking her guts out in the bathroom. So yeah, great shift. 

Her mom is standing over the stove, stirring a pot of-  _ goddammit-  _ macaroni. And there’s a stack of envelopes-  _ double goddammit-  _ on the counter beside her. 

“We need to talk, young lady.” 

“Did you look through my room?” The envelopes are college applications, forced onto her by her counselor at school, but she felt like a dick to toss ‘em, so she shoved them under her bed, in a tupperware bin, with all the tips she’d been earning. 

“Did you take my stuff?” Jamie’s chest is getting tight. 

“Jamie, I was vacuuming. Why haven’t you touched any of these? Where have you applied?” 

“Did you take my money?” Jamie ignores her, eyes flicking over the letters, landing on her bedroom door, ajar. 

“I would  _ never  _ take your money. Where have you-” 

“You  _ fuckin’  _ take it every day! I work my ass off at the diner, every day, and I don’t even get my own checks!” 

Her mom’s lips turn down, worried. “Jamie, I didn’t take any money from your room. What colleges have you applied to?” 

Jamie scoffs, a bitter, broken sound. “Where have I applied? Nowhere! Why would I apply to college?” 

“None?” Her mom gasps. “Jamie, you’re gonna miss the deadlines!” She grabs the envelopes frantically. “How about this one? Castleton, that’s not too far.” 

“I  _ want  _ to go far away! And since when am I going to college? Since when can we afford that?” 

“Honey, you  _ can’t  _ afford not to! Look at us! You don’t want to be like me, working so hard, and so long. You deserve more, for your future, Jamie.” Her eyes plead with Jamie. 

Jamie sits on the kitchen chair, appalled, and like an obedient child, begins to fill out application after application. 

“Hey, can you help me with something? A project?” Jamie asks the next day, and Dani perks up. 

She’s slammed, prepping as much as she can for their busiest day of the year, but she drops the list, giving Jamie her full attention. 

“Of course, what’s up?” She smiles happily, even amongst the chaos. 

“It’s for my mom, for Christmas. Something special, I just don’t know how.” 

“What were you thinking?” 

“Um, this, it’s like an orange-ginger pudding she used to make, for special occasions. She just- she works really hard. Could use some of your Christmas magic.” 

Dani smiles sweetly, touching Jamie’s arm. “We could do that.” 

All morning, they work, and Dani shows Jamie how to thinly slice oranges, how to zest them, how to peel ginger, her hands delicately guiding Jamie’s the whole way through. Her slices come out chunky and thick compared to Dani’s, but the blonde just smiles, insisting that the dish will be more special if Jamie makes it herself. 

Her slices get thinner, and while the tin is chilling, she makes the batter, beating in the eggs meticulously, and when the batter is almost ready, Dani tells her to taste it. 

She dips a finger in, and sticks it in her mouth, and it’s… heavenly, but it needs something. She pulls her finger out, and taps it on the counter, not noticing how Dani’s eyes follow the movement. 

“It needs… more vanilla?” And Dani grins, while Jamie shakes a few more drops into the mixture. Jamie stirs, and they both lean in to smell the warm, inviting mixture. Jamie turns her face, breathing Dani in as well. “Keep stirring?” She murmurs, and their noses almost brush with how close they are. 

Dani nods. And doesn’t move. So they stand, occupying the same space, breathing in the spicy-sweet magic in front of them. 

“Mum?” Jamie pushes the door closed with her foot, holding the still-warm dish. “Are you home?” 

“Up here, honey!” She hurries upstairs, and her mom is standing in the kitchen, off an early morning shift. Her eyes are tired, she smiles a bit at Jamie when she sees her. 

“Sit down,” Jamie orders, putting the dish on the stove as she grabs two plates. The old westerns are on in the other room, Dave still lounging on the couch, and Jamie cringes to remember her insomnia-ridden nights. 

“Does he still stay up watching those things?” Jamie slices into the pudding, laying a piece down on a plate. 

“What? No, why would he?” Jamie’s mom sips her coffee. 

“I thought he liked to do that.” 

“James, he only did that for you, y’know?” 

Jamie pauses. “What?” 

“Hon’, I can’t keep my eyes open if I tried, at that hour. Never could. But Dave didn’t want you to be alone, so he’d go and watch those things with you ‘til you fell asleep. They always did put you right to sleep.” 

“But- I- I thought he just didn’t sleep much!” 

“Oh, god, he was  _ exhausted.  _ But he had insomnia growing up, he didn’t want you to feel as lonely as he had, when he did.” 

“Hm. Weird.” Doesn’t make sense. 

“How is that weird?” Her mom looks at her. 

“Well, I mean- Dave doesn’t particularly like me, does he?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Mum. He like, never talks to me. And when he does, it’s about when I leave. Like he can’t wait.” 

“Baby, Dave just isn’t much of a talker. He  _ is  _ excited for you to leave, why do you think he puts all of your report cards up on the fridge?” Jamie splutters. “It was his idea to start driving you to school, so you would stop wasting time and money on the bus. He didn’t want your grades to drop, and for you to not go to college.” 

“But- but- I can’t afford college! And the food, the labels in the fridge, the heat off in the winter! It’s like it’s all his, like nothing’s mine, anymore! It’s like he doesn’t want me here!” 

Her mom’s eyes fill with tears. “Oh, honey, no! Why would you think that? You’ve felt like that this whole time?” 

Jamie’s own eyes fill as well. 

“Do you remember your dad, baby?” Jamie shrugs. 

“A little. Not much.” Her mom nods. 

“Good. It’s good you don’t remember him. It was hard, when he left, but we were strong, my girl. Even though it was scary for a while. I’m glad you don’t remember what it was like.” 

“I don’t, not really.” Her mom smiles softly at her. 

“Dave… he doesn’t show affection like your father did. Like  _ most  _ men do. He doesn’t have the capability, really. But he could never be cruel, he doesn’t have that capability either. And after your father, that’s what we needed. I know I used to…” She coughs. “I know I used to mess around with a lot of guys after your father, but Dave… He  _ cares  _ about us, sweetie. About me  _ and  _ you. I know he’s a little odd, with the food labelling, and the heat. He labels the food, though, so he doesn’t spend more on groceries than necessary. And the heat stays off, well, that’s just to save money, but it’s money for  _ you,  _ baby. That’s why we put all your checks in savings. In fact, we were gonna surprise you on Christmas, but- Dave, honey?” She calls into the living room. “I think we should give Jamie her present now!” 

The westerns shut off, and Jamie stands awkwardly in the kitchen as Dave walks in. 

“What about Christmas morning?” Her mom wipes her eyes, and gets up too. 

“It already smells like Christmas in here, Jamie, did you make this?” Her mom leans over the pudding, and Jamie nods, handing her a plate. 

“We used to make this- Dave, me and Jamie, for special occasions.  _ God,  _ it smells exactly the same.”

Jamie dishes out slices for her and Dave as well, and her mom chews happily. And Jamie hums in the familiar warmth when she takes a bite, the spices swirling happily in her belly. It tastes like Christmas too, like how Christmas used to feel. 

Dave has eaten his whole plate, and Jamie puts another one in front of him, smiling at him for the first time, in… ever. 

“Thanks, baby girl.” He says, his voice gruff, and Jamie looks up, surprised, but her mom just smiles, with tears in her eyes. 

“No problem.” Dave sighs, in relief, and Jamie just beams into her next bite, looking down at her plate when her mom leans into the burly man. 

“It’s wonderful, honey.” And her mom looks- she looks young. Happy, relaxed, sweet and soft and warm. Jamie shakes her head, cursing herself for staying silent for so long, letting years slip away that could have felt like this, how she feels now. 

“And, Jamie, this is for you.” Rick slides a sheet of paper over the table to her, and Jamie blinks at the paper. A list of numbers-no, a bank statement. A savings account under her name, with-

“Forty  _ thousand  _ dollars?” She nearly screams. “How- what- wh-where did this come from?” 

“We’ve been saving, Maria, for a very long time. Everything we didn’t need to live on.” 

“But- you guys, I can’t. What about you? What about saving for emergencies?” Jamie feels like shit, hoarding her tips under her bed while her mom and  _ fucking Dave,  _ suddenly good, were pinching pennies just so she could have a future. 

She’s the worst, she’s decided. She’s also crying, guilt and gratitude swirling in her belly. 

“We’ll be fine, Jamie. You know we’ll be just fine.” And Jamie can’t help but to believe it. She crushes them both into a hug, and Dave huffs in surprise. 

She doesn’t care. She loves them both. She loves her life. She loves Christmas. 

On Christmas Eve, she tugs on her uniform, and walks into the kitchen to see Dani sprinkling peppermint pieces onto chocolate bark. She looks concentrated, and Jamie smiles at the adorable crinkle between her brows. 

“You’re amazing, I’ve decided.” Jamie throws her arms around the blonde, hugging her from behind. 

Dani giggles. “What did I do?” 

“The pudding! It was amazing. You’re amazing.” Dani puts her hands on top of Jamie’s, tentatively, a bit sticky from the peppermint. 

“Jamie, you made that, remember? I think you should be congratulating yourself.” 

“Only ‘cuz you let me have some of your magic.” Okay,  _ that  _ sounded weird, and she’s probably been hugging Dani for too long. But she doesn’t really want to let go. 

She steps away, glancing at the peppermint bark. “That for Hannah?” Dani frowns. 

“Yeah, yeah,” God, that accent is adorable. “It’s- nothing’s working for her. Maybe I don’t have the sixth sense we thought, huh?” She jokes, but her eyes dull a bit. 

“Dan’ I gotta tell you-” 

The door jingles wildly, and Sam bursts in, eyes bugged out in anger. “Hannah!” He shouts. 

“Here to apologize?” Jamie says, walking up close to him, and willing herself not to look scared. 

“For what?” He clenches his fist, looking down considerably at the small brunette. 

“Come on, dude! For your fuckin’ girlfriend! Ditching her Christmas Eve shift, even though I requested off a  _ month  _ ago? You’re lucky I was in to pick up my check, or else she would have been on her ass outside quicker than you’d believe!” 

“She’s not here?” Jamie rolls her eyes, sweeping her arm wide over the empty diner. 

“Uh, ya see her here? I’m here, aren’t I? Tell Hannah that if she ditches a shift like this again, she’s jobless.” 

“Any idea where she went?” Sam asks, about to steam out of the ears, it seems. 

“Sam. She’s not  _ my girlfriend,  _ come on.” He scoffs, narrowing his eyes at the shorter woman. 

“Jamie,” Dani’s leaning over the order window. “Need some help back here, you busy?” She nods in greeting at Sam. “Tell Hannah to call next time she doesn’t show, ‘kay?” Her smile is sweet, but her eyes tell a different story, narrowing at the tall man. 

Sam storms out, and Jamie joins Dani in the kitchen, collapsing against the counter, heart racing. 

“What happened? Where’s Hannah?” Dani lays a comforting hand on her back. 

“Ah- she’s halfway to an airport, with Owen.” Dani’s eyes light up in recognition of the sweet, goofy, heavily moustached man who used to come in, and trade pleading words with Hannah over the bar. 

“Going to live with he an’ his mum, in Paris. Got an ol’ restaurant up there. God, the best thing, really.” She had forked over her hoarded tips, proposing the idea to Hannah, who lit up, and, well, Owen’s gone on her really. 

“He’d been trying to get her to leave with him for months, regardless. Guess she just needed a push.” 

“She’s leaving?” Dani asks. 

“Nope. Already gone.” Jamie dips her finger into the bowl of white chocolate, licking it off. “You’re wrong, y’know. You are magic. But sometimes, what people need is hope for the future, instead of love for the past. And sometimes the only thing to give you that hope, is the money to get away.” 

Dani’s eyebrows lift considerably. “Your tips.” Jamie chuckles. 

“All of ‘em. But it turns out I didn’t need to leave so soon. Might stay close, for a while.” And Dani’s face lights up, a grin nearly splitting her face in half. And Jamie leans in, slightly, tipping her head up, and Dani leans down, and it’s like slow motion- 

The bell jingles, announcing a customer. And Jamie wants to scream. Fucking Christmas. 

The day flies by, and business picks up, orders spit out of the kitchen in record time, smelling wonderful and happy, and Jamie doesn’t get to talk to Dani, or see her, outside of their hands brushing over the exchanged trays, or brushing past each other in the small kitchen. But she feels Dani’s eyes on her, and they share a smile, every so often, soft and secretive, and Jamie feels like a gingerbread cookie, warm and spicy and deliciously crumbly, like she could melt with just one word from the blonde. 

By the time the last customer leaves, and Jamie is switching the “Open” sign off, they are both slap happy and exhausted. 

Jamie leans against the counter, and Dani falls in next to her. 

“I still have so much work to do.” She rubs her face, leaving a streak of flour over her cheekbone. Jamie leans into the blonde, brushing the flour away with the pad of her thumb. Dani tips her head down, closer, but Jamie just lays a finger over her  _ very soft  _ lips. 

“I’ve got some work to get done, too.” 

The air is cold outside, once she finishes her cleaning, and she knocks on the back door haphazardly, two steaming mugs clutched in one hand. 

Dani opens the door, a heavy rolling pin in hand. “Oops!” She chirps, lowering the instrument. “Thought you might be Hannah’s creepy boyfriend.” 

“Oh, sorry! Follow me!” Jamie jerks her head, and Dani smiles, a bit confused. 

“Where-” 

“Come on!” Jamie calls over her shoulder, and scales the ladder to the roof, the mugs weighing warmly in her left hand. When she’s safely on the roof, she sets the mugs down, on the blanket beside her, and extends a hand over the edge to help Dani up. 

She doesn’t let go, even after the blonde is settled beside her, staring down at Christmas together, at the gas station across the street, where a few of the miners are lounging by a pickup truck, laughing and sipping bottles of beer. 

And from up here, it doesn’t look like a dead-end to her. People seem- they’re  _ happy,  _ she’s happy. 

She hands Dani one of the steaming mugs, topped with whipped cream and peppermint sprinkles. 

Dani smiles, taking a sip, and Jamie wants to kiss the whipped cream off her upper lip. 

“Christmas Eve is my favorite.” She says, into the cold night air, into the space between them, fogging with her warm breath. “The anticipation. I think I like that part more than anything else, how we make just a random date on the calendar special. Something to look forward to.” 

Dani smiles into her mug, a bashful sweep of her eyelashes lighting a new feeling in Jamie’s chest. 

“Did you ever figure it out?” Dani hums, and Jamie continues. “What food you’d make for yourself?” She nudges Dani with her elbow, snuggling closer. 

“Um, I don’t know. Not a ton of happy memories to draw from.” 

“What about this one?” She murmurs, and Dani smiles, a low-lidded, lazy thing. “If I’m a gingerbread cookie, you’re a mug of hot chocolate.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Makes you glad for cold nights.” 

“Ah.” Dani sighs. “Sometimes you’re more sugar than spice. By the way, this is the best cocoa I’ve ever had.” 

“Lies and slander.” 

“Seriously. You should come to culinary school with me.” Jamie snorts, leaning the back of her head against Dani’s shoulder. 

“Maybe we can find a college and a culinary school nearby.” Dani tips her head towards Jamie. “I don’t think I could be apart from your gingerbread for too long.” Their noses slide together, and their breath mingles when Dani laughs. 

“Is that a pickup line?” 

“Yes. Completely.” Dani giggles again, and Jamie can’t take the anticipation. 

She slides her lips over Dani’s, chocolatey and smooth, and Dani makes a noise of relief in the back of her throat. And Jamie feels it, the warm, sweet and spicy feeling, the feeling that glows in her chest, and low in her belly,  _ home.  _

Dani pulls back and smiles, a lovesick little grin, and Jamie feels herself falling, sinking, like she’s standing on quicksand. 

“Merry Christmas, Jamie.” Dani murmurs into her lips, and Jamie hugs her closer, feeling, for once, the Christmas spirit that she’s heard so much about. 

**Author's Note:**

> Once again- this is very largely based off of the short story- "Welcome to Christmas, CA" by Kiersten White. I loved this short story when I read it, and I love these characters, so why not? Thank you so much for reading!!!


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